Precious People
by checkerbloom
Summary: What do Yondaime, Kakashi and Jiraiya keep fighting for?


Okay, so I decided to leave this as a one shot. Decided to make my fic about Kakashi's precious people into a seperate entity. If you visit my profile you might find it, although currently it is still a WIP. Look at me, shamelessly pimping another one of my fics! ahem yeah, go read it.

o0O0o

From the outside you would never know of the vast caverns and winding passageways that ate through the rock of Hokage Mountain. Behind the four stone faces was a labyrinth of tunnels that even the most persistent of people would lose themselves within. For a shinobi of the hidden Leaf however, the maze was as familiar as the features they were hidden behind.

As for Jiraiya, he could find his way to the top of Yondaime's head with his eyes closed.

He stepped out into the warm night air as the last of the sun's glow faded behind the mountain. Konoha stretched out below, framed by the ageless forests of the Fire Country, hidden in the leaves. But Jiraiya ignored the view for the sight of the two young men standing at the edge of the stone, looking out over the village as the lights below twinkled into life as the shadows of night fell.

Jiraiya dropped the bag he had been carrying to the floor, beside the twin packs already propped up against the stone where their owners had left them, and strode across the stone head of his favourite student.

"Why are the two of you hiding up here?" he chuckled.

Yondaime, flesh and blood rather than stone and dust, turned away from the view and grinned back at his former sensei, "I'm showing Kakashi what it is we keep fighting for."

The boy in question, more of a man than he should be, looked over his shoulder towards Jiraiya as the sannin approached them.

"Yo," Kakashi said simply before looking back out over the village. Jiraiya's shoulders shook in amusement as he stopped beside the Yellow Flash. Barely a year ago Kakashi had been a cold little brat. Jiraiya hadn't been very fond of the boy, Kakashi had seemed like an emotionless statue. As dead on the inside as the very stone they were stood upon. But Jiraiya had held Sakumo in high regard, and for some unfathomable reason Yondaime was infinitely fond of the boy.

It had taken a tragedy to shake Kakashi's heart out of it's ice walls, but now Jiraiya could see what Yondaime saw when he looked at the son of Konoha's White Fang. If you put a lump of coal under enough pressure, you get a diamond.

The three generations of Konoha shinobi stood in silence and watched as the village came to life. Countless tiny lights blinked in the darkness from each window below. The sight was achingly beautiful to those who bled to keep those lights burning.

"It's a lovely night," Jiraiya sighed in contentment, "wouldn't you say, Hokage-sama?"

Yondaime rolled his eyes in Jiraiya's direction, and the sannin bit back an amused snort. The Yellow Flash was still getting used to the title, Kakashi had been slapped out of calling his sensei Hokage-sama, receiving a swift clip around the ear every time he slipped up. Yondaime's face had only just been carved into the mountain they were standing on, he would frown whenever he looked out of the window to see himself looking back. It amused Jiraiya to no end.

It also gave him utmost faith in the man who was once his student. To take on the responsibilities of the Hokage, but feel uncomfortable with the admiration was what made Yondaime the greatest leader the Shinobi of the Hidden Leaf had ever had. In Jiraiya's humble, but possibly biased opinion.

"Such a lovely night," Jiraiya went on with a small smile, "deserves a toast. Oi, Kashi-kun!"

The masked teen managed to portray his hatred for the pet name with only one eye as he glared at the sannin.

"There's some sake in my bag," Jiraiya grinned at him, "be a darling, go fetch it."

Kakashi gave a much troubled huff before he turned to the bags gathered some feet behind them.

"Kakashi," Yondaime turned and smiled at him, "there should be three sake cups in my bag, bring them too."

Kakashi paused and turned back to his sensei, his one visible eye slightly wider than usual.

"Three?" the boy asked.

"I don't see why you should be left out," Yondaime grinned. If the arching of Kakashi's eye was any indication, he was grinning too, and he promptly hurried over to the bags to dig out the requested items.

Yondaime was always smiling, it was one of the reasons he was so well trusted. You tended to believe in a man who could still smile like that despite what he had lived through. But Jiraiya, who knew that smile better than most, noticed how the smile he gave Kakashi was wider than the smile he gave to everyone else.

Jiraiya tsked and turned back to the view, "giving alcohol to a fourteen year old Hokage-sama. Not very responsible of you."

"You're one to talk Jiraiya," Yondaime laughed, "as I recall, you got me roaring drunk when I was younger than Kakashi."

Jiraiya bit his lip to kill the smile that wanted to dominate his face, "ah, well, that was an accident. And wasn't I sympathetic the next morning when you were suffering with a hangover?"

"You tipped a bucket of ice water over my head and dragged me to the training grounds at five in the morning," Yondaime countered.

"Exercise is good for hangovers," Jiraiya sniffed.

Behind them Kakashi rummaged through their bags, and in front of them their village lazed peacefully beneath the stars. A peace that had been fought for and won, and hopefully would last.

"So," Jiraiya smiled, "what exactly is it that we keep fighting for, oh wise one?"

Yondaime gave him a small smile, and turned back to the smaller figure rooting through their things, "for the people who are precious to us," he said softly before turning back to the village, "and for the people who we are precious to."

"Found them!" Kakashi cried as he moved back towards them, a bottle of sake in one hand and three small porcelain cups balanced in the other.

"Give it here then," Jiraiya swept the bottle from Kakashi's hand, which was so much smaller than his was. It reminded him just how young Kakashi really was, but he was old in ways other than years. Hopefully there would be no more children forced to go to war for a long time.

Jiraiya poured the sake and placed the bottle on the ground at his feet before looking back out at the twinkling lights below them.

"What shall we toast to?" Kakashi asked thoughtfully.

"To Konoha," Jiraiya smiled.

"To precious people," Yondaime said, holding the cup out in front of him as he looked out at the village they had sworn to protect.

"Kampai," Jiraiya tossed his drink back, and laughed when he heard Kakashi coughing as his throat protested at the liquid.

o0O0o

The bag in Jiraiya's hand rustled as he climbed the stone steps. Even from within the mountain he could hear the sobs echoing down the passageway from above. The sound sent sharp stabs through his chest, reminding him of his own grief even as he remained silent.

He emerged from the shadows of the stairs and walked out onto the head of Yondaime Hokage, the greatest leader Konoha had ever had, a fact now, rather than a belief.

Kakashi was on his knees, his face in his hands, small sobs escaping through his fingers. Could diamonds crack under too much pressure?

The sun was setting behind the mountain, the last glow of the day dying behind Yondaime's face. Jiraiya moved silently towards Kakashi and looked out over the scarred landscape. The land had been torn and bloodied. There were gaping wounds marring the forest that hid Konoha, and the village itself was broken and burnt.

"Kakashi," Jiraiya said, in a soft voice, hollowed by grief, "what are you doing hiding up here?"

Kakashi sniffed behind his hands and shuddered as he breathed in, "trying… trying to remember," he said, his voice broken by tears.

"Remember what?" Jiraiya whispered.

Kakashi lowered his hands and looked out over the ruins of their home. His mask had been pulled down, and Jiraiya sighed sadly at the youthful face that the material hid from the world. His face was marked by the path of tears. Both eyes, one fathomlessly dark, the other blood red were glistening with tears yet to fall.

"Trying to remember what I'm supposed to keep fighting for," he said in a small, lost voice.

Jiraiya had silently been asking that same question all day. He sat down beside the fourteen year old and placed the bag he was carrying beside him.

"We fight for the people who are precious to us," Jiraiya answered, echoing Yondaime's words that had been spoken mere months ago.

Kakashi let a single sob fall from his lips. "What if all the people precious to me are gone?" he asked.

Jiraiya sighed, "just because they're gone, it doesn't mean we should stop fighting for them," he said, not really knowing where his answer was coming from, but knowing it was true, "even though they're gone, they're still precious to us. We fight for what they stood for, for what they believed in. For the legacy they left behind."

Kakashi blinked up at the sannin, and dragged his sleeve over his eyes, wiping away the tears. Jiraiya reached into the bag he had brought, and took out a bottle of sake, with three small porcelain cups.

As the glow of the sun died behind Yondaime's stone features, the shadows claimed the scarred homeland of the two shinobi. Jiraiya poured sake into the three cups, not able to bear leaving the third empty, as darkness hid their village from them.

Out in the darkness, a small light wavered. Jiraiya watched, mesmerised, until it was joined by another. One by one the lights of the village brought the Hidden Leaf to life, battling back the shadows of the night. Each light represented a precious person, a son or a daughter, a mother, a father, brother, sister, a friend. Everyone of them was precious to someone. As the lights grew in strength and replaced the glow of the setting sun, Konoha was no longer the broken and burnt village it had been moments before, it was beautiful, especially to those who had lost more than blood to defend it.

Jiraiya handed a cup to Kakashi and held his own out in front of him. His gaze fell upon the sparkling lights of their home, the place and the people that the Yellow flash had loved enough to die for.

"A toast," Jiraiya said.

Kakashi sniffed one final time, "to precious people."

Jiraiya smiled down at the boy who was more of a man than he should have to be.

"Kampai."

o0O0o


End file.
